Real Christmas
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: 5 Christmases that don't happen to Hotch and Emily and the one that does.
1. Chapter 1

_So, I've had a couple of people ask about this year's Christmas fic. It's in Castle, unfortunately, but I had this little idea float into my head a while back and it's a good way to get to use the prompts so... _

_It'll be about 6 chapters. One for each of the Christmases that don't happen and one for the Christmas that does. I'm thinking I might make that Christmas the "real" Christmas in the same universe as His Christmas Wish and Something More, but I haven't decided that yet. We'll see._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Blended Family Christmas**

**Taxi** - A Full House for Christmas

The Reaper never gets to Haley.

Haley's bitterness has faded by the time Jack turns eight and it only means good things for Aaron because he can see Jack whenever he wants, simply by making a call to his ex-wife. He sees Jack as often as his schedule will allow and for a while, Haley even keeps a guest room for him for the times he comes in late. When she starts seeing someone, she tells him quietly that its serious and it's time to change.

But that's okay, because Aaron knows that she's not the only one considering someone else. In her time at the BAU, Emily's been nothing but supportive of everyone. She's fiercely loyal and even, on a few occasions, sympathized with him over Haley's unreasonableness about the divorce. Their friendship has blossomed and he finds himself doing things for her he'd never even considered with the rest of the team.

He knows they're exploiting it. It's always Emily that comes to ask him to get a drink with the team after a hard case and she always seems to know just how far to poke before backing off. Sometimes, all he wants to do is see his son and Emily seems to understand that just as often as she seems to know just when to push him to have some fun. The shift from friends to more was terrifying and a big jump on his part, but Emily is patient and understands just how terrifying it is.

He's surprised at how much he didn't know about her as they start sharing deeper, darker secrets. He holds her when she cries over the baby she had to give up and he apologizes for his inability to be there for her after Matthew's death. She's who she is because of so much and he never ceases to be surprised about how a girl who had grown up so lonely can turn into the compassionate woman he knows.

He's been dating Emily eighteen months before he introduces her to Jack. It's deliberate on his part and yes, she's met him before, but not like that. Jack seems perfectly okay with the idea when it happens and only asks a few questions about step-parents and Haley's new man. Other than that, nothing really changes. Now, he spends more time with both of them rather than one or the other, but he makes sure to keep time for just Jack and just Emily.

He doesn't move within the Bureau. Strauss' threat is solid, but he doesn't care. He works with Emily and a team that's like family and he's still on amicable terms with Haley. But it still surprises him when Haley calls to ask if he and Emily would like to spend Christmas with them. In the same phone call she tells him she's engaged and he's genuinely happy for her. He wants her to be happy and though there's a little ache in his chest at the idea that she couldn't be happy with him, it fades when he realizes he's pretty happy now too.

Emily seems worried about going to Haley's for Christmas, but he soothes her concerns. The four of them, Haley, Aaron, Emily and Haley's fiancée Jasper, just so they can get over the initial awkwardness. It's like Emily and Jasper have extrasensory perception with the way they smooth over awkward silences and keep things moving. When they leave, they're both happy and they're both much more comfortable with the idea of spending Christmas at Haley's.

Emily and Aaron spend Christmas Eve with the team at JJ and Will's. It's the only balance they can find because Haley always celebrates on Christmas Day. The team seems fine with it since they're off rotation for a little while. It's good to see JJ again, though Aaron knows she and Emily talk constantly. With the work they do, the friendships they forge are that much stronger, so it's not much of a surprise that Emily's girl's nights are always with JJ and Garcia. Aaron misses JJ because they had a close friendship, so it's twice as good to be able to spend Christmas Eve laughing with the people who were family when his family was falling apart.

Jessica's there when Aaron and Emily arrive and Aaron is shocked and touched when he sees that Haley also invited Sean. It's a Christmas he's never anticipated, but it's warm and full and he gets to watch his son open all of his presents with utter glee. He and Emily take Jack home with them that night and curl up on the couch with How the Grinch Stole Christmas and cookies. Jack falls asleep against Emily, who is leaning back against his chest and Aaron can't think of a Christmas that would be any better.

But that's not really how it happens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Missing**

**Geronimo Stilton **- A Christmas Catastrophe

She spends Christmas as a hostage.

She doesn't know it at the time, because, well, in the dark room she's been forced to call some version of home there really isn't any indication of time, but that's where she is when the clock strikes midnight on December twenty-fifth.

She paces the cell, carefully counting the fourteen steps from one side of the room to the other. She's done it countless times since she was chloroformed on her way into the local precinct after a late-night coffee run and she's cursed herself in every language she knows – which, considering she often learned swear words first as a rebellion to the perfect image her mother wanted, takes a while. She knows there's a million things she could have done differently that would have landed her in a completely different spot and simultaneously acknowledges that it would have required a kind of ESP she does not have.

The worst part is that she knows it adds extra pressure to her team. They'd all let out a hearty groan when the case had come in two weeks before Christmas, but they all did this job with that in mind. If they could give support to some families, decrease the terror in a town haunted by murder, then that was what they were going to do. Protect and serve but putting away the psychopaths.

That doesn't mean they're not all upset about the potential of spending Christmas in another state hunting a murderer.

For Emily it's all about the 'first Christmas'. It's her first Christmas she's set to spend with Hotch and Jack, as a little family unit they migrated towards after Haley's death. Emily, having lost her father at a young age, had bonded easily with Jack and Hotch had been more than thankful that Emily was around to answer the questions he couldn't. That had been three years ago, though, and both had adjusted to the missing woman in their lives.

But Emily had also fit in seamlessly. She was the support structure both men had needed at the time, and she knew Hotch was eternally grateful for that. Which was why when their relationship looked to be moving beyond a deep friendship and a shared adoration of Jack, Emily had taken a good, long, hard look at the situation. The last thing she wanted was Hotch clinging to her because she'd been there. It had taken almost a year for her to believe that maybe it wasn't just a twisted version of hero worship. Her agreement to spending Christmas with Hotch and Jack a month ago had been the final nail in the proverbial coffin of their shift to a romantic relationship.

Which means she knows exactly what's going through his head right now, and none of it is good.

She sighs as she paces back again. She was a victim of opportunity. She knows this, because she doesn't fit their UNSUBs type and the likelihood of two UNSUBs kidnapping women is statistically unlikely. It puts her in more danger. She's expendable because she has no emotional value. Not like the others he's kidnapping. She's there as a bargaining chip. Worst comes to worst and he gets caught he can hold her life over their heads. Or, worse yet, if things get dire, he has the opportunity to make her the victim out of a bad Mob movie. She shivers as she pictures the look on Hotch's face when he receives her finger on the front stoop of his hotel room.

She stops pacing and leans against the wall. She's dirty and grungy, tired of sleeping on the floor without a blanket or passed out against the wall. She has aches in places she didn't realize could ache and a couple of bruises from her attempts at freedom. He's actually made a hole in the bottom of the door now so he can slip scraps of food to her because she attacked him twice, even though he had a weapon. She's pretty sure she still has the residual effects of a concussion from the way the butt of his gun met the back of her skull.

But she's alive, and there's a part of her that recognizes the brilliance of that.

She stiffens instinctively when there's a loud crash outside of her room. Then comes the screaming she's heard once before, but it stops abruptly. Emily winces. But then comes the sound of shuffling, scuffling and she can't help the hope that swells in her chest. A few minutes later, Morgan's voice is calling her name and her entire body sags weakly against the wall.

"In here," she manages to call out as she slides to the floor. It's been a hellish ordeal and she's not surprised she can't hold herself up any longer. There's a part of her that's completely shocked she's had the strength to make it this long.

When the door crashes open she expects to see Morgan. She should have known better really. Hotch is at her side in an instant, cupping her cheek in his palm, running his hand down her side. "You're okay?"

She wants to laugh, one of those awkward bitter ones because, really, no, she's not okay, but she also knows that's not exactly what he's asking. She's alive and she hasn't been harmed other than the obvious physical injuries. She looks up at him, gauging his mood, taking in the lines that always form around his eyes and between his eyebrows when he's sad. She sighs.

"We missed Christmas, didn't we?"

He nods but she knows it doesn't matter. Tonight, whatever date it is, she'll call Jack and apologize. He'll probably tell her it's okay because they caught the bad man and that's what matters. Maybe when they get home they'll have their own version of Christmas. She hopes that's the case, because she doesn't want to think that she missed the look on Jack's face on Christmas morning.

Despite her protests Hotch carries her out and to a waiting ambulance. It's there that he tells her that it's December twenty-fifth. She's been missing almost two full weeks. Then he gets really corny and tells her he doesn't care because finding her safe and sound is a better Christmas present than anything that could have been under the tree.

But it (thankfully) doesn't happen like that.

* * *

_I don't know why this came to me. But it did. And I kind of like the way it turned out._

_How about you?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Double Team**

**Maggie & the Ferocious Beast **- The Missing Sweater

"Jack! Have you seen your sister's Christmas sweater?"

It's Christmas Eve and Jack's been ready to go for almost forty-five minutes. His step-mother, on the other hand, is running uncharacteristically late and his father is supposedly on a plane back from… Jack wrinkled his nose. He had no idea where Dad had gone this time. All he knew was that at this rate, Dad was going to miss Emily's Christmas party.

Well, and even that is a bit of an exaggeration. It's really a stuffy Christmas party at Emily's mom's house. Jack loves the house for the myriad of places he can go to avoid everyone else, but the party always requires a suit and polite conversation. He has to be on his best behaviour and while that isn't as difficult for a sixteen-year-old as it had been for a four-year-old, it still grates on him.

"Nope," he calls after her as she races through the living room. "No idea."

Emily huffs, then goes tearing off in the direction of the laundry room. It's a few minutes before said little sister shows up in the living room. Jack can't help smiling as the twelve-year-old bounds onto the cushions with a broad grin. "Don't you ever sit on a couch like a normal person?"

Angela just continues to grin. "Did you hide it?"

"Oh yeah," Jack replies his own conspiratorial smile blossoming over his face. "She'll never find it."

"Oh thank God," Angela says in relief, blowing out a thankful breath. "You saw that… that… thing."

Elizabeth Prentiss adores her granddaughter. Jack doesn't mind because one, his little sister is pretty awesome and two, he isn't a biological grandchild. She treats him like a grandchild in most ways, but when it comes down to the annual Christmas sweater, Jack is perfectly okay with being excluded.

And this year's sweater blows all other years out of the water.

Angela huffs, just like her mother, as she leans back against the cushions. "Is she blind?"

"She's your grandma," Jack answers. "She's probably losing her sight in her old age."

"Hey, watch it. She's your grandma too," Angela pouts.

"_Step_-grandma," he responds with a smirk. "And look at it this way, so long as your mom can't find that sweater, you don't have to wear it."

Angela shivers. "Who _picks_ stuff like that? Rudolph and Frosty _and_ a Christmas tree? Did she pick it up at Value Village?"

In reality, they both know it's probably made of cashmere – Angela definitely knows, and Jack just knows its soft – and probably hand-made by some small-town Ukranian, but it is ugly and, as a twelve-year-old, appearance is all that matters to Angela.

There's a scrape of a key in the lock of the front door that alerts both children to a new arrival and Angela outright squeals when her father steps through in a whirl of snow. "Daddy!"

"Hey," Dad answers with a tired smile, catching his youngest and meeting his eldest's eyes over her head.

"Emily's on a rampage," Jack warns as Dad lets go of Angela and they share a manly hug. Jack's just old enough to know that he's not supposed to like his parents, but considering his mother's murder, he knows he doesn't always follow the 'rules'.

"Oh?" his dad asks, looking between his children. "What did you do this time?"

Angela puts on the best puppy face she can muster. "Us? Why would we do anything?"

But Dad knows. And Jack can tell he knows that whatever has Emily freaking out, it probably boils down to the two of them.

"Aaron?"

"Hi, Sweetheart." He wraps his wife in a hug and Angela makes gagging noises as he follows it with a kiss. "What's going on?"

"I can't find Angela's Christmas sweater from Mother."

And that's it. Jack knows Dad has an idea of exactly what happened and he looks to his son who shakes his head fervently. He and Angela are a team and he's not about to rat out his teammate. Even he knows that sweater is ugly and he's not about to let his image-conscious sister out of the house in it. Plus, he's going to be the one beside her most of the night, ensuring she's safe from her grandmother's matchmaking techniques – another thing they don't talk about since Angela hasn't quite realized that boys aren't as terrible as they seem – and he _definitely_ doesn't want to be associated with the abomination.

"Did you check Angela's laundry basket?" Dad asks instead and as Jack sags in relief, he notices Angela doing the same thing.

"I'm still looking through the laundry room."

"I'll check the basket," Dad promises, hefting his go-bag. The look he shoots Jack leaves no question and Jack follows his father up the stairs. Angela's close on his heels, but Jack's confident that once Dad sees the sweater, he too will take pity on Angela.

Dad turns to them at the top of the stairs. "You have two minutes to get me that sweater or I'm going through Jack's laundry myself."

Jack wastes no time.

"No!" Angela hisses as he digs the sweater from under his bed. "Dad'll tell Mom!"

But it's too late and Dad's back. Jack holds up the sweater, satisfied when his father winces. "God. She has appalling taste."

Jack sends Angela a triumphant grin. "Which is why we're hiding it. She won't go through here, she trusts that I've checked it through."

"Daddy," Angela pipes up then. "I _can't_ wear that. Even if Grams is going to get mad, you _can't_ tell Mom we have it. Please?"

Dad looks between them, taking the sweater in his hands and opening it up. It's cream, a colour that does look good on his daughter, but the hideously green Christmas tree across the front makes him frown. "Rudolph _and_ Frosty?"

"_And_ the tree!" Angela exclaims quietly. "Come on Dad. Just this once."

Jack knows his father, knows his tells, so he can tell when Dad's giving in. "Just tell Nan it got lost. Tell her Angela did a closet purge and it must have gotten lost in the shuffle."

And then Angela adds the icing to the cake "_Please_ Daddy?"

And Jack knows they have him. Dad sighs and hands the sweater back to Jack. "If this comes up _ever_ again, I will make sure you _both_ get a sweater."

Angela squeals and wraps her arms tightly around Dad. Jack just grins.

Dad blows out a heavy breath and Jack tries to put on a sympathetic face. Now they've left him to deal with Emily and he knows that's not going to be easy. But Angela's vibrating beside him and Jack can't help but grin. The idea of this party is looking up now that Angela's sweater is effectively 'missing'.

But that's not really how it happens.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fraiser** - The Fight Before Christmas

_AN: Admittedly, I manipulated the prompt a bit. "Before" doesn't really apply._

They've had a fight.

They've had them before, but never like this, and as Emily curls tighter into herself she knows it's probably her fault.

She wants more than he can give and she knew that going in. She'd promised herself she wouldn't push, swore to herself that she was okay with it. She knew he was committed, knew he was in it with her, knew that she had nothing to question and yet… she'd wanted more. She should have known better than to ask for it.

And she didn't mean to ask, it had just… come out.

But then they'd fought. He'd told her he can't give her what she wants; she disagreed. He told her he has a son to think about; she told him that she loves Jack. He'd told her he was married to his job; she pointed out that he wasn't so married to it anymore. Yet, he'd still held back from her, still told her it wasn't possible, still told her he couldn't give her more.

It had all started with a key.

They've been dating… well, Emily's not quite sure. At some point their friendship had deepened and then it had segued into romance. She's not sure when and she's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to define it either. But she knows it's gotten to that point. All she'd done was offer him a key to her apartment. She'd been nervous, but she'd wanted him to know that it was important to her, that he was important to her, that _they _were important to her.

He'd thrown it back in her face. He'd taken it so much more seriously than she'd intended. She wasn't asking him to move in, she wasn't pressuring him to move in, but he'd jumped to conclusions. She figured it was because he knows what she ultimately wants. He'd forgotten to consider how well she knows him.

No matter what she'd said, no matter how many times she protested his assumption that she wanted him to move in, he hadn't listened. He'd made his own conclusions – probably panicked – and had ignored any and all explanation.

Not that she could fault him. They couldn't read each other's minds, but there were things they could figure out because they'd been trained to. It didn't take a genius, for example, to know that he'd been hurt by Hailey's decision to file for divorce, or utterly shattered when she'd been murdered, or that he felt responsible for it all. The same way even a blind person could see that all Emily wanted was to belong somewhere.

But somewhere along the way, someone had made a miscalculation. She isn't sure if it was her, for believing that he would believe her or if it's him, for believing she wasn't content.

And now, she sits on her couch, in her undecorated apartment, on Christmas Day.

They'd decorated at his. Jack was there, and there was no reason to decorate two apartments. Plus, because it was their home, Emily had felt it would be better to decorate there.

It has been a good holiday. They'd decorated, made gingerbread, watched Christmas movies, gone skating, hunted for the perfect tree… everything. They'd opened gifts together and Emily got to see the absolute glee on Jack's face as he ripped into his rather substantial pile. They'd saved the adult gifts for last. That's when it had fallen apart.

They'd exchanged harsh words, hurtful phrases and then Emily had packed up her things.

She hadn't been able to leave without saying goodbye to Jack.

She can picture it, picture his little body playing in his room. She'd known walking in there that he'd heard everything and it had broken her heart to know she had to break his.

"Sweetheart, I have to go," she'd said.

And his solemn six-year-old eyes had met hers. "Are you coming back?"

Emily had leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead. "I don't know." She never could lie to him.

And then she'd walked out.

He hadn't even tried to stop her.

So she sits in her living room, knees curled to her chest, breathing in and out slowly. She's trying to keep herself from crying, trying to stay strong, but she's not sure how much longer she can fight it. One of her best Christmases had turned into her worst in the blink of an eye.

And then the tears come, in a quick, bitter rush. She can't stop them, can't fight them, and they soak the knees of her lounge pants before she can so much as take a deep, ragged breath. She doesn't remember the last time she cried this hard. She lets it all out, because she's the type that once she starts crying she can't stop. It's a quick rush, like it usually is, but she's given herself a headache. She forces herself up, deciding as she wipes her eyes that she's going to make herself some tea. She picks one of the ones she found in Eastern Europe, one that seems to have the ability to knock her out cold. She's glad for it. She wants it.

Her hands are compent as they go about preparing her tea, moving swiftly. She has to pause as she prepares the leaves to wipe her eyes again, but otherwise, it's quick mindless work. The knock comes on her door just as she's filling the kettle and it makes her jump. Water splashes over her hands and she sighs, deliberately setting the kettle aside and picking up her tea towel. She's been an agent too long not to check the peephole first, and when she can't see anyone, she automatically reaches for her gun. Still, she cracks the door open first.

"Jack!"

She slams the door, the opens it again, frantically searching the hallway. "Where's your dad?"

"In the car," Jack replies solemnly. "I had to come, Em'ly. You were sad. I didn't want you to be sad."

"Oh, Sweetie," Emily crouches down to his level, brushing a thumb against his cheek. "I'm okay."

But he's not. She's been around him long enough to tell. His cheeks are too pink to be just from the cold and there's a redness to his eyes that tells her he's been rubbing them.

"I told Daddy we had to come, Em'ly. You shouldn't be by yourself on Chris'mas. That's what you told me."

"I know I did," Emily promises. Then she sighs. "But sometimes, things are out of our control. "

Jack's shaking his head as soon as she says 'but'. For the millionth time she reflects on how incredibly perceptive he is for his age. "Come back."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she replies softly.

"Why not?" Jack asks, his lip starting to jut out in a pout. Emily knows she has to cut it off before it becomes full-fledged. She can't say no to his pout and she doesn't want to put his father in an awkward position.

"I don't think your daddy would like that." It's the best she can do.

"He would!" the little boy argues, voice going just a little shrill. "He likes you."

She feels the tears coming again and digs her fingers into her palm. "I like him too. But even people who like each other get mad at each other. It's still possible to hurt someone you like."

"Are you mad at Daddy?"

She thinks about it before shaking her head. She's not mad, just really, _really_ hurt. "No."

"Daddy's not mad at you neither-"

"Either," she corrects automatically.

But Jack isn't listening. "So if no one's mad at no one-"

"Anyone."

"-Then you can come home!"

The thought of Jack thinking of his house as her home makes the tears thicken in her eyes.

"And you like Daddy, and Daddy likes you, and Aunt Jenny says that when two people like each other, they should live happ'ly ever after, just like the movies."

Emily makes a mental note to have words with JJ. As much as she loves the woman, Emily also knows JJ's been butting her nose in.

"Happily ever after doesn't exist to everyone, Honey," Emily tries to explain gently. The last thing she wants to do is ruin his illusions of the world, but she doesn't want to lie to him.

"Why not?"

With his head cocked to the side and eyes solemn, he reminds her so much of his dad. She finds herself swallowing thickly. "Because sometimes people make mistakes. Sometimes they're not ready for it. Sometimes they don't think they deserve it."

Jack wrinkles his nose and Emily knows it doesn't make sense to him.

She offers him a smile she knows is sad. "Someday, Sweetheart, it'll make sense. Come on in, let me get my coat and we'll walk you back to the car, okay?"

But it's too late and she's just stepping back to let Jack in when his father comes bounding up the stairs. Emily freezes as she watches Aaron Hotchner huff and puff on the landing, striding purposefully down the hall.

"Jack Hotchner," he says, his voice low, ignoring Emily for the time being. "You never, _ever_, do that to me again. Do you understand me?"

Emily is confused as she rests her hand on Jack's head. His little body is trembling worse than she is. "Jack?"

It's only then that Aaron looks up at her, his eyes churning. She can see so much in them, the fear, the hurt, the concern, and yet, there is still a wall there. A wall even she hadn't been able to get past.

"I didn't wait for Daddy."

Emily understands what's going on, why Aaron is so afraid and she guides Jack inside her apartment. "Honey, why don't you go turn on the TV okay?"

He goes instantly, and she knows part of it is because he's a little afraid of how angry his dad is. But Emily doesn't mind standing her ground and ensures her door is unlocked before closing it with a quiet click. "Don't hold it against him, Aaron."

"He jumped out of the car. I'd barely pulled to a stop. Then I had to find a parking place."

"And what? You didn't think he could climb a few flights of stairs by himself, in a very safe building, to see me?" Her eyes slam closed as soon as the harsh words are out of her mouth. "I don't want to fight with you anymore."

"I didn't want to fight with you to begin with."

It's obvious he's itching for one though, obvious that he wants to go another round with her. Emily doesn't feel like it. She feels drained and tired and she just wants to get them both out before she loses it again. He's angry and all she wants to do is make sure that he doesn't take it out on Jack. So she changes her mind.

"Know what? Go ahead. Yell at me." _Just don't yell at him_. Their relationship, Aaron's and Jack's, is still too fragile and full of one-sided guilt for Emily to feel comfortable with allowing Jack to bear the brunt of anger that is her fault.

He paces three steps, then back again. "We were _good_, Emily."

She has no idea where she's drawing this calm from. "We were."

He stops in front of her. "Then why change it?"

"I told you, Aaron," she says with a weary sigh. "I didn't want to change anything. All I wanted was for you to feel at home in my apartment, the same way yours felt like home."

It's a circular conversation, and she leans back against the wall, prepping for it. He surprises her though, by stepping forward, right into her space. "I'm broken. Why can't you see that?"

She actually rolls her eyes. "Because even Humpty Dumpty was put back together again." She reaches up to run a hand through her hair. "Look, Aaron, I don't want to change you. I don't want to fix you. Right now, I'm okay with what you're willing to give and if that changes, then it's on me. You are not responsible for the way I feel or the way I act. You're responsible for the way _you_ feel, the way _you_ act." She shrugs. "I also don't think you're broken. I think they're just scars that are still too raw."

"Em, I _can't_."

Her smile is tight and sad. "Then that's all there is to say, isn't it?" She chews her lip. "I'd like to be able to see Jack from time to time, and I'd appreciate it if we can still be friends."

"That's it?"

"Aaron, what do you want from me? You're not okay with me accepting what you can give, you're not ready to trust that I'm okay with whatever that is, so we're at an impasse. Except I don't think I can sit at that impasse forever, and I'd rather cut the ties now than risk bitterness in the future." Because she'd been there, and she'd lost good friends because of that bitterness.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'll get Jack."

She steps back into the apartment, and wills herself to stay strong. Jack's not watching TV, he's just sitting on the couch, tense as a bowstring. "Jack?"

His head whips around so fast she winces. The look in his eyes is so hopeful that it makes her chest ache. "Are you coming home?"

"No, Sweetheart," she replies, finally reaching him and crouching down in front of him. "I'm staying here. But you need to go home with your dad."

"I don't wanna," he pouts.

"Jack." And her tone is just a bit reproachful. "You need to go home. We'll still see each other, as long as your dad allows." She pulls him close. "I'm not leaving you."

"But you're leaving Daddy."

She doesn't want to tell him his daddy doesn't want to. "I'm sorry, Honey," she says. "But someday, you'll understand."

But that's not really how it happens.

* * *

_And..._

_Collective sigh of relief that this depressing thing is not the good Christmas._

_There's a part of me that knows exactly where this came from, but I won't bore you with the details. I was in a mood. This is what happened. Originally I was going to make it a happier ending... but since it's not the actual Christmas that happens, I took some artistic liberties and made it super-sad. Goodness me, do you know how hard it is to break Jack's heart? Emily and Hotch? Not a problem. Jack? Good Lord, shoot me now._

_And almost 2500 words long. Let's call that an accomplishment._


	5. Chapter 5

**Wish Come True**

**Generation Kill** - Stay Frosty

_Those of you who read His Christmas Wish will recognize this. Consider this my tribute to the sequel I still get asked for. - KL_

It's December 24th, 2010.

It's been a year since Haley's murder. A year since Aaron became a single father. A year since he and Emily took the first steps towards a solid relationship.

It hasn't been an easy year, but they've made it work.

Emily buries her nose in her scarf against the freezing cold as she holds tightly to Jack's hand. In her purse, three candles are wrapped in a plastic bag as she and her small charge make their way through the snowy path.

She introduced this tradition to Jack the previous year. She hadn't been surprised when Aaron had asked if he could sit it out.

She knows Haley's death is still difficult for him. She can't blame him for that and she's secure enough in what they have now to understand and accept that, while knowing that he's in deep with her. Still, she'd made it clear that if Jack wanted to come, she would more than welcome the company. She remembers that conversation well, reminding the six-year-old of the point before asking him if he wanted to come. He'd thought about it for a moment, adopting that face that Emily swears is identical to his father's, and said 'yes'.

That had been weeks ago, and for good reason. They'd had to plan this year's Christmas around a number of families, and they needed to know if Christmas Eve was in the cards. Thus, Emily and Jack had spent three weeks doing something extremely important.

They finally clear the trees and Emily smiles despite the seriousness of the moment. The surrounding trees are lit with candles and though they are relatively early – it was Christmas Eve, after all – they still look like tiny fairy lights blinking in the night.

"Alright, Mister Jack. Which tree shall we pick?" Emily asks, hitching her purse up on her shoulder.

Jack looks around before he starts to walk, tugging her along with him. She lets him go because though this tradition is something she feels she has to do every year, she wants Jack to see the value in it as well. She remembers Haley's last words to Aaron and she's done everything in her power to help him fulfill his ex-wife's dying wish. She knows the kind of love it takes to do what Haley did, and she wants Jack to understand that people like her – putting aside the fact that Jack should remember Haley simply because she was his mother – are people more than worth remembering.

"This one, Emily."

She smiles as she releases his hand to dig in her purse. He immediately grasps the bottom of her coat as she pulls out the candles and the small lighter. "Should I go first?"

He nods, so she takes a small holder from the tree he's stopped in front of and secures the candle inside. With a quick flick, she lights it and hangs it back on the tree thinking of the baby she's lost. They're silent for a few moments, before Jack tugs on her coat.

"Aren't you going to say it?"

Emily smiles. "Not yet."

She repeats the process for the second candle – for the friend she should have saved – and Jack waits patiently until she withdraws the third. She hands it to him, then lifts him in her arms. He's getting big, so the movement isn't as easy as it has been.

"Pick a holder," she instructs quietly. When he has it, and they've secured the candle in it, she puts him down and crouches to his level. She lights the candle and holds it in front of them. This one is for his mother, for a woman who gave her life to save her son. Jack doesn't know the whole story, but he understands enough to know that a bad man took his mother away from him.

"You remember the words?" she asks softly. This is what they've been working on for three weeks.

He nods his little head with a determined set of his brow. "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking."

He stops then and she smiles despite herself. "It is not easily angered," she prompts, then stops when his eyes light up in remembrance.

"It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserves.., persed…" He looks up at her.

"Perseveres," she provides.

Jack nods, then sucks in a deep breath. "Love never fails. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

Emily is grinning with teary eyes as she stands and hangs the candle. It's a Bible verse Matthew lived by and one she's associated with this tradition since her late friend showed her. After clearing her throat with a little sniffle, she picks him up again.

"Good job, Honey," she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Do you want to say anything to your mom?"

There's a pause, but Emily is patient. She's never rushed Jack to talk about his mother, never really pushed him to do more than he thinks he can. Still, she wants to give him the option. Just as she's about ready to make the decision that he's given up, Jack reaches out carefully with a mittened hand. The holder is big enough that he can safely wrap one of his hands around the tree branch it hangs from without threatening either of them.

"I love you, Mommy," he says in a small voice. "I hope you're having fun with the angels, but me and Daddy miss you lots."

Emily bites the inside of her cheek as she adjusts her grip for his weight.

"But it's okay. 'Cause we have Emily now. And she takes good care of us. So you don't have to worry, Mommy. Daddy and I are good."

Then he lets go of the branch and Emily steps back with him still in her arms. She's not quite ready to put him down yet, so she's thankful when he cuddles his head into her neck.

"Emily?"

"Yeah, Honey?"

"Can we go home now?"

Emily's a little surprised by the question. "You don't want cider?"

The garden has a bonfire where families can sit and enjoy cider and a doughnut. But Jack is shaking his head.

"It's Christmas Eve," he says, unfortunately wise beyond his years. "Daddy's at home. Daddy shouldn't be by himself."

She smiles as she carries him out of the garden. Aaron had doubted that he could teach his son how to love unconditionally, but with the words he's said, and how adamant his voice sounds when speaking of going home, Emily knows that Aaron has absolutely nothing to worry about.

But this happens in another universe.

* * *

_I know, I know. SUPER late. _

_Having said that, I'm already working on the last one. I think it's half done. Depends on what the muse wants to do with it now. Honestly, I may force myself to stay up and finish it tonight. Which means it should be up in a couple of days. MAX. But that makes the assumption that I'll finish it tonight. _

_Reviews are super appreciated since I know this has been long coming and is Christmas related. Even though it's April._


	6. Chapter 6

**In Reality**

**Samuel Singleton -**Because I Love You Gift Certificate

She's glad it doesn't happen because of a case.

In their line of work, it's usually a given, usually normal, and it's not surprising. Reaffirmation is a big part of their jobs and their lives. But that isn't the foundation for a strong relationship. It isn't a foundation for anything positive or productive. It's temporary, momentary and she's glad, considering what they have now, that that isn't what starts it.

It doesn't happen out of personal tragedy.

Once again, she feels like that's a good thing. Largely, she recognizes that it's the same as case work, the same reaffirmation, the same need for something happy and tangible, if only momentary. People are tangible. Emotions are not. And that's why she's glad. The fact that it means nothing bad has happened, that there is no pain to endure goes far in helping her feel glad.

It doesn't happen because of a tradition.

There's no 'kiss me, I'm Irish', no mistletoe, no pity date on Valentine's and no midnight kiss on New Years' Eve. They're not that cliché and she's pretty sure he doesn't believe in most of them anymore. Which is okay, because when it does happen, she knows it's real, knows there's no excuses and that in itself is a heady feeling.

"You're thinking too hard."

She smiles and tilts her head back to accept his kiss. She's sitting on his couch – shifted under the window because of the massive Christmas tree – watching the snow fall. It's long after the holiday festivities, it's long after even the smallest of children is tucked safely in bed. He brushes her shoulder and she shifts so he can slip in behind her.

"Am not," she replies when they're settled, eyes back on the falling white. "Just… remembering."

"Remembering what?"

She knows what this is. They play this game a lot. He loves to see how her brain works, loves to play in her head. She's okay with it, only because she's taken it upon herself to outsmart him. She's pretty sure when it comes to the score, they're tied.

"Us."

He hums against her back and she smiles. "Which 'us'."

"The you and me, 'us'," she replies, the smile obvious in her voice. She's going to make him guess. She wants to make him guess. Because as much as this game is about getting into her head and outsmarting him, it's about getting into his head too.

"As opposed to you and me?"

She rolls her eyes. If she told anyone this is what he's like away from the office, she's pretty sure she'd get a bunch of incredulous stares. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're warm."

His hands slips under the edge of her shirt to lie flat on her stomach and her muscles quiver. She knows exactly what he's going for, so she rests her hand over his, the fabric of her shirt between them. His fingers still immediately and she knows they're both just taking in the moment.

Things are different now. Now there's more laughter. There's more time away from the office. There are more smiles, more days off, more vacations, and more time just spent like this. It's surprising how much can change over time and they both know that there is more to this than most people think. People see them as the couple that would never be; an anomaly. But they know differently. They know there's more to them. Their relationship is as much about what they create together as it is about who they are apart.

They've never lost themselves in this. Sometimes it's scary. Most of the time, it's beautiful.

"I should thank you," she says after a quiet moment.

"For what?"

She pauses now. She wants to get the words exactly right, not only because of what they're going to mean, but because of what she wants them to mean.

After all, Christmas has never been her favourite. In fact, she hates it. But it's hard to hate a holiday with a chipper six-year-old hell bent on including her in every single tradition. Because she doesn't have any. Christmas has always been a very formal affair to her. Formal parties, pretty dresses, and superficial small talk. She can remember awkward moments under the mistletoe and careful, meticulous planning and decorating.

This Christmas has been the exact opposite.

The tree that's lighting up the room has mismatched ornaments. There's no theme in sight amongst the copious amounts of garland and lights. It looks like a cozy, happy home, something she hasn't failed to tell him time and time again. She knows it means a lot. Even after a year of being a single parent, she knows he worries. He doesn't have to, but it's kind of endearing that he does.

"For giving me Christmas," she says finally.

His thumb circles on her skin though he says nothing in reply. He doesn't really have to. They've had this argument a million times. She likes him – loves him – because of exactly who he is, exactly what he's fought for, what he's overcome because of what he's lost. He thinks he's too broken and damaged to give her what she needs. He's making assumptions in saying so and they've come to an impasse where there's an unspoken agreement to disagree. So she knows his response would be a disagreement and is glad they're not going to have the argument again.

"This is one of my better ones," he says finally, sliding one of his hands out from beneath her shirt to brush her hair off of her shoulder. He presses a butterfly kiss to her neck and she smiles, wide and bright. It never ceases to amaze her than a man that is such a hardass on the job is this tender away from it. When they're on the job, he treats her like any other agent. When they're off the job, she's porcelain and glass. She'd find it funny if it weren't so mind-boggling.

Then, he's clearing his throat with surprising awkwardness and she turns to look at him in curious confusion.

"There's one more thing."

He's out from behind her before she can so much ask any of the questions that statement evokes. She settles on pouting instead missing his warmth as he heads to the Christmas tree. From the branches, he pulls a small box.

She sighs as he brings the box over. "You're not supposed to spoil me like this."

They've already both gone overboard, for each other, and for Jack so the extra gift both makes her giddy and guilty.

"It's not a big deal," he tells her as he settles in behind her again. "Open it."

The lid isn't sealed, and the gift isn't wrapped, so Emily lifts the lid and curiously lifts out the paper inside.

_This entitles Miss Emily Prentiss to a weekend vacation at a moment's notice._

She's shocked by the words. He isn't one to take impromptu vacations because – as he likes to believe – he never gets stressed enough to need them. And especially not for forty-eight hours. She glances up at him, her surprise obvious, then back at the page and it's 'fine print'.

_No cell phones. No work files. No e-mails. _

It's asking a lot of him. He's made plenty of shifts to accommodate the single father status, but this is beyond the steps he's already taken to get out of work every once in a while. This is completely separating himself from the office, stepping away from the murder and mayhem they constantly experience. She's not sure she's capable of it, but the gesture doesn't go unnoticed. She swallows thickly as she turns her head up to look at him.

"Why?"

He swallows too and she feels her eyes widening despite the fact that she barely has an inkling of the bomb he's about to drop.

"Because I love you."

Her heart patters to a metaphorical stop in her chest as she stares at him, mouth slightly agape. He's said it. Actually said it; three words she never in a million years thought she'd hear from him first. He's so adorably nervous, but she can't get past her absolute certainty that she's dreaming.

"What?" she whispers in hope and in awe.

"I love you," he says again.

And she knows she's living every trite romantic phrase in the book. Her heart is soaring into the clouds as she continues to stare at him like he's grown an extra head. He loves her. And he actually said it. She's not totally sure which way's up and which is down.

"Oh my God." It's not the three words he's looking for, and she knows that, but she's still pleasantly shocked and surprised that the words came out of his mouth first. "Oh my God."

He wants to take it as a good sign, as a reciprocation of his feelings but there's an uncomfortable twisting in his gut that lets him know he's not sure of it. Still, when she twists around to kiss him soundly, he responds and wraps her up tight in his arms.

"I love you too," she finally says as she pulls away. His heart settles into place and he lets a smile he saves just for her sprout over his face. She's grinning, eyes shining, and he can't stop himself from thinking of princes, princesses, castles and happily-ever-afters. Though he will never, _ever_ admit to it.

"God, Aaron, I love you too."

And that's how it really happens.

* * *

_I guess this could be seen as OOC. But since we're putting Hotch in a situation with Em we've never seen and aren't likely to see, I feel comfortable arguing that it may not be. Though I probably took a few creative licenses when it comes to how cavity inducing this while scene feels. _

_Before I sign off on this one, I do truly want to thank those of you who read this. I know I've been terrible for updating, but I can't put into words how nice it is to come back to my proverbial home and still have people willing not only to read, but to be so extremely patient in waiting for updates. I do apologize that it took me so long, and I hope you enjoyed every second of this.  
_


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